


A Life Like This

by thegoodthebadandthenerdy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Gen, M/M, Remus Lupin Lives, Sirius Black Lives, St Mungo's Hospital, theyre granddads!!, thts literally all this is its abt love and family and remus and sirius being graddads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24228544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegoodthebadandthenerdy/pseuds/thegoodthebadandthenerdy
Summary: April the fifth, 2004; the birth of James S. Potter and his introductions to his many, many family members; particularly that for who he's taken his middle name.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	A Life Like This

**Author's Note:**

> ive been revisiting hp genuinely for the first time in years and its safe to say ive been going through it. i had the thought of harry putting james sirius into sirius's arms and ended up writing this whole thing in just a couple hrs after having been horrifically writers blocked for months so. enjoy!

Late into the evening on April the fifth, early into the new century, Sirius answers the enchanted Muggle phone on the wall the same way he always does: upside down. It's only once he realizes the distant, tinny voice on the other end sounds even more distant and tinny than usual does he right himself. From there on out, it's all quite routine. He listens with the side of his thumb tucked neatly between his teeth, hmm-ing where appropriate; all told, he much prefers face to face communication, but the appeal of the phone's ease isn't lost on him, especially not in times like these.

He's breathless when he tucks the receiver back into the cradle, cheeks flushed so high it nearly reaches his eyes. He's grinning, then he's bellowing, right over his shoulder so it carries into the living room. Put a fire on, Moony, greeting committee's been called in!

Remus rouses from his lazing perch on the couch, tossing the knit blanket back from his middle. When his socked feet hit the floor he wiggles his toes half-mindedly and asks Sirius what he's on about, exactly. He'd been having an excellent nap.

Down to Mungo's, Sirius declares as he tumbles into the room, and that lights the fire under Remus quick as he can light one in the grate. Flames pool from his wand in excited sputters, a welcoming baby blue.

One hand in the Floo powder pot and the other on the back of Remus's neck, Sirius smacks a thorough kiss on his mouth and tosses the powder in the fire, one swift motion embedded in him as natural as his quick gait. He calls out the proper name for the hospital and disappears in the crackling fire. Remus follows just after, still toeing into the shoes he's been keeping by the hearth for a month now, a smile impeding the way the words leave his mouth, but he manages to get there just fine.

Sirius didn't wait, but he'd made provisions with the elderly witch at the desk just outside the fires. She looks him up and down, not lecherous in the slightest, and commends the long-haired one with the tattoos on his accuracy. The tall, handsome bloke in the old man get-up, he'd apparently told her, hadn't even mentioned the scars. She points him down the hall and around the bend and up a floor and to the left and up another and then to the right and you should see your crowd I'd think, too many of you to fit in the ward I'd think. He thanks her and hurries off, knowing better than to believe Sirius had retained a word of that or that he himself will past the first turn. He thinks instead of red haired boys standing about and tries to conjur them by physical force of will.

Catching up with Sirius is the easy part, and they skitter around hospital hallways gleefully, their shoes sliding across the tiles so they have to keep hands on one another not to bowl over the other visitors and staff milling about. They debate the lefts and rights and ups and downs until finally they see the helpful hand-shaped signs pointing them around. Two of those gets them in sight of their first Weasley and everything turns right-side up from there. Percy sends them to George sends them to Charlie sends them to Ron who sends them on to Bill who's just outside the door with Molly and Arthur; all Ginny had wanted was her eldest brother, apparently. She had told Harry take me to Mungo's second and find Bill first.

Hermione was in th ed room just then, but Molly shooed their attempts to wait silent outside the door. As much yours in there as mine, she mutters, which does something funny to their throats. She taps at the door and pops her head in; Remus and Sirius are here, Harry.

Send them in would you?

Hermione slips out a second later, quickly hugging the both of them, and practically pushing them in. He's brilliant, she tells them, he's perfect.

In first went Sirius, shaking hands and laugh like fire and smoke, crackling with pure joy, and all. Remus catches his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze as he follows him in. Long fingers around long fingers that catch and hold.

The greetings are at once quick and meaningful, so thick with emotion the air should feel heavy with it. Sirius grabs Harry on either side of his face, practically by his ears, and makes him lower down so he can put a kiss to the top of his head and murmur his thick congratulations into his hair. Harry's response of which is to conjur up a brave face betrayed by tears lining his tired eyes and put his arms around Sirius's shoulders. Remus checks in on Ginny, hands her the water by the bed and puts his hand on her shoulder and laughs when she tells him they got there faster than her parents had. Then they switch off, Sirius gasoline to Ginny's quick wit and exhausted grin, Remus a quieting frame for Harry, who hugs him just the same as he had Sirius, let's Remus hold the back of his head and keep him close.

Now, Sirius says, rubbing his hands together and able to wait no longer. Harry directs him over to the bucket by the bed, clear all the way around to show a wriggling mass of white blankets pocked with a knitted cap and booties--Molly's work, clearly.

How big was I, y'think, Harry asks, Molly says he's bigger than Ginny was.

Should've just said I was the runt!

Ah, Sirius hums, thinking back. So many numbers had been thrown around that day, seventh month, thirty-first day, nineteen eighty, a year that hadn't even seemed plausible. Barely twenty, how old James was, twenty and a half, how old Lily had been. Remus doesn't try to remember it all, just holds up an approximation with his hands that Sirius nods agreeably to.

You were a bigger fish, Sirius declares like a portrait hole password.

Harry gently picks his son up and cradles him in the crook of his arm, waiting for Sirius to arrange himself properly. Remus can't see his face, but he imagines it's probably a lot like his, crinkled near the eyes and lips and dimpled at the chin at the sight of the little one they'd known now with one himself. He doesn't look exactly like James had-- much too calm for that July memory; they'd been there when Harry was born, waiting outside the door, having been there all day and night as James worked his hair until it was vertical--but there's something old and timeless about the picture. Then he tucks the baby into Sirius's arms, grinning madly at them as Sirius practically falls over his own tongue.

This's James then, Sirius asks, and when Ginny agrees, smiling at his back, he says, very softly, Hullo, James.

James Sirius, actually, Harry corrects, meeting Sirius's eyes, James Sirius Potter. It makes Remus's insides feel rapturous, threatening to shake loose with how right it is.

Figured it'd be too much to make him wear the name Weasley too on top of all that, Ginny jokes, but tears are easy in her eyes.

Sirius muffles gratitude in his cheek, leaning back when Remus puts an anchoring hand on his shoulder, bowing his head over the baby and cradling him tenderly to his chest. James Sirius, imagine that. Once and always a Potter.

Hermione's right, he's quite the perfect one, Sirius finally says, Good on you for taking after your mother, James. Everyone laughs wetly, but their eyes remain on Sirius and his namesake. He holds him surely, his arms still knowing the way to brace his head and support his neck, his muscles still knowing how to say I've got you and I'll never let harm come to that beautiful head of yours.

James squints up at him with his bloated face and restless hands, and Sirius knows that he is this baby boy's for life.

A few minutes later--less time than Remus thought he would have to wait, Sirius with a baby is a sorry sight, a Potter baby even worse, he never fails to hog all the time with them--he tells James gently, time to meet your Moony, I think; I know he thinks your Padfoot's taking up all the time, but once he gets his hands on you he'll know why.

Remus starts to ask, is it, may I--but Harry shushes him. You never have to ask. Remus is just as grateful for that as the baby Sirius rests in his arms. A hush falls over Remus's then, his heart quiets in his chest. There are two perfect eyes and one perfect nose and a yawning little mouth looking up at him and everything else pales in comparison. This right here makes it all mean something.

Isn't he great, murmurs Sirius to him and Remus can only nod, dumbfounded. One of his curls tumbles onto his forehead and he doesn't make to move it, let's Sirius tuck it away while he tries to remember every microsecond of this experience.

He's a perfect counterweight in Remus's arms, a sweet relief. When Harry and Ginny had come around one Sunday morning, sat at the kitchen table and told them, he'd known he would love this baby as soon as he set eyes on him for the first time, but he hadn't known how whole it would be, how fast it would take root in his bones. He'd loved Harry much the same, but that had been fierce and harried, this is sweet- and finer, no worry to be had. He bops James's wiggly nose with the end his finger and swears that love to him.

It's while he holds the baby that the nurse comes in and says they're there to check in. Remus laughs and tells James Sirius Potter, it's always the same suspects getting me in trouble. Sirius tsks, but doesn't refute, looping an arm around Remus's waist once he's passed the baby off and kissing his shoulder.

You'll stay, Harry asks them, taking his glasses off to clean them with the edge of his wrinkled t-shirt. He looks hopeful and they're both hard-pressed to deny him, so they vow to stay outside and check in on those that have been around the longest. Whatever they need.

Shoo Mum off if you can, Ginny says in an over-exaggerated whisper, switches back to her regular tone to say, she's been with me all weekend, some sort of grandmotherly intuition she claims, but I'm afraid she'll be alseep on her feet much longer.

They're sending us off on a fool's errand, Rem.

That they are, thankfully I've a fool with me.

Out in the waiting area they're greeted first and last by Bill, a progeny of all things who has already sent his parents back home with the promise to let them know if anything changes, but if it doesn't the instructions to stay there 'til morning. Right after them he'd sent Charlie and Percy. He grins, scars shifting on his face, and asks after the baby, which ends in Sirius and Remus and their collective memory recalling baby Harry to both him and Fleur, who had gone down to the caf in search of coffee it seemed. Ron and Hermione come back around not long after, George ambling in pursuit, and then it's a proper family gathering.

The nurse ducks out some time in between, and then out comes Harry, pulling the door quietly behind him. Ginny and baby James have finally tuckered out, he reports, but the check-in went perfect, all fingers and toes accounted for, not an extra one in sight.

Hermione tells him not to joke about that and Ron laughs quietly and George tells him not to laugh too hard or he may pop out the extra bellybutton they'd had to spell shut when he was a baby and for a moment, just a moment, Ron believes him.

While Ron tells George off in that pink-faced way only he can, Harry motions Remus and Sirius off to the side and down the hall a little ways. Still well in sight of the skeleton crew waiting in the wings, punch-drunk off little sleep and the tail-end of perfect giddiness, but private enough.

Harry rubs at the back of his neck, blinking slowly, and thanks them again for coming down so quickly, apologizes that he hadn't called sooner. Only called Bill's, he explains, and that had summoned the rest.

All for the best, Remus assures him with a hand on his shoulder, Sirius gets rather antsy in waiting rooms when there's actual waiting to be done.

Your mother sent me all over the house the night you were born, Sirius says, cuts his eyes impishly at Remus and adds, and this old tosser sat on the couch with his head in his hands.

Harry smiles at that, but it seems to bring him around to what he'd wanted to say in the first place.

He's got godparents already, he explains, inclining his head to the catch of family beyond them. Ron and Hermione've already agreed.

They're good ones, Sirius says softly.

Yeah, Harry replies, arms loose over his chest, one palm cradling an elbow. He scratches it nervously and continues. He'll have Molly and Arthur on Ginny's side, all his aunts and uncles and cousins, too.

He changes tracks just as quick as he'd begun, green eyes begging from Sirius's face to Remus's. You know I'd never try to replace my mum and dad, yeah?

Of course, Harry, says Remus, and Sirius echoes his agreement. These three men are the ones that know that the best, how futile it would be even to try.

He nods. Good--I'd just, I'd like him to have a bit of my family, too. So if you're up for it, not too old, y'know, he smiles with the western-most side of his mouth, well I figure it might not hurt to give him a couple more grandfathers.

Unsaid here is: you two raised me, even when we weren't together; you gave me back my family when I'd thought it was gone forever; I know you love me with every thump of your heart in your chest and I know you'll love my son just the same.

It doesn't have to be, some things are innate, burned so deep in the marrow life wouldn't look the same without them.

Sirius's face slips into a smile tantamount to a question. Like he's only half-processed it and wants to ask if Harry's quite sure.

He is, he absolutely is, tells them so himself with a brimming grin. So smug when he wants to be, that kid.

We can certainly--of course we'll, Remus stumbles, first one to words, and just the right ones at that. He throws an arm around Harry's shoulders and, in a rare sign of drastic affection, kisses the top of his head just as Sirius had, though it's far easier for him to reach, and leaves his cheek there. Harry blooms under all the easy affection, even these years deep into the great pool of familial love and touch that is the Weasleys.

You'll come around for dinner then, when we get discharged, he tells them, not a question but a date in their calendar. They agree as a formality, and Harry sets back off to the room with one more hug from Sirius.

They don't immediately rejoin the group, instead taking one quiet moment for themselves. Sirius leans against Remus's side, feels a stray kiss brush against his temple feather-light. There aren't any words right for the moment so they don't say any, just wrap fingers around fingers and hold tight, moored to this dock and yet feeling the gentle rock of the years gone by lapping at the side of their boat.

Remus says later, we did all right. Not a question, a truth. He'd wondered, all those summers months of trading letters and hoping it would be enough until they got to see one another again, if they were doing him any good. He'd wondered, after the war, when Harry came to stay with them for a few years, finished school and decided his path in life, if they were what he truly needed. As a newly minted grandfather, and what a wonderful thing to be, he thinks, he knows--

Yes, we did.

Near dawn, Ron and Hermione are asleep against one another; they'd Apparated straight from home in their pajamas, so Sirius threw his jacket over Hermione's drooping shoulders clad only in a short-sleeved shirt, brushing her curls back from the collar. It's how one would find her even now, snuffling quietly in her sleep and Ron close to drooling.

Sirius wonders aloud if there's a spell to keep that in check, the snuffling and the drooling, and Remus warmly informs him that if there were he would have found it by now.

George has long gone home to check in on Angelina and the kids, promising to be back in a few hours when his parents returned, leaving Bill and Fleur to remain steadfastly, awake and speaking softly in what sounds like perfectly good French from Bill, if Sirius remembers anything of the horrible tutoring he'd had as a kid.

Sirius and Remus watch over them all, just as they have been for years, just as they will continue to do, even when they expand their gaze to encompass all the tiny feet that will no doubt continue to come along. Sirius with his back to the wall, eyes alternating between open and shut and always one when it should be the other; he takes the next coffee run with Fleur, comes back with a flimsy cup to press into Remus's hands, and takes his spot back up again once everything's said and done. Remus appropriates the chair nearest Sirius which puts Fleur on his left, and they trade in low, mischievous words, laughing like tangled windchimes through the night.

With the sun comes the first visitor of the new day, a mass of blonde curls done up on a fair head and tied off with fishing line, a bug-eyed lure nestled like an accessory. Her eyes are smudged a tired purple, but she smiles when she sees Remus.

Professor Lupin, greets Luna Lovegood of thick, electric green galoshes and jeans rolled up her calves still with water stains on the cuff and a hand-knit orange-and-brown blend turtleneck. She raises up onto her toes to hug him, which is when she spies Sirius, leaned against the wall and peeking at her out of his one open eye.

You're very happy, she tells Sirius, motioning with silver ringed hands at something he can't see around his head, and very well endorsed.

He laughs delightedly, that barking laugh of his, and says he'll wake the beast for her. Three years of various early mornings with Harry had been enlightening to say the least.

Harry emerges with sleep-lines on his face and half his hair flat to his head like someone had dumped a bottle of Sleekeazy's on it. As someone who had once dumped a bottle of Sleekeazy's on James and Sirius's heads, Remus knows enough for accurate comparison.

When Harry sees Luna, his shoulders unfurl, and she immediately takes up enough gab to manifest itself as hands to carefully nudge the sleep out of his eyes. The owl with Ginny's note, she explains, got a little lost, had a run-in with something best compared to a crocodile, but she came as quickly as she could as soon as she knew. Secondly, she'd like to know the baby's name, and thirdly, she would like to know what time he was born.

For the birth chart, she explains, and Harry's eyebrows go up his forehead, but because it's Luna he dutifully rattles off the time for her and lets her commit it to memory.

And the name, she asks again, and he tells her that too. She nods sagely, and in a voice that makes Remus think of a younger, more believable Sybill Trelawney, tells him not only is it a good choice, but one made of love and imbued with the kindest gift he, Harry, could give his son.

He'll be well taken care of, she says, thumbing sororally at his cheek, by those we can see and even those we can't.

I'm really glad to see you, Luna. Ginny'll be too.

And I'm very glad to be with you, Harry.

Remus and Sirius retreat home in the afternoon when the waiting area fills up once again with the once-absent Weasleys and too the whole of the Hollyhead Harpies line-up. They collapse from the fireplace onto their couch in a tangle of creaky limbs and Remus shuffles the blanket over their laps and tucks his head into the crook of Sirius's shoulder.

Sirius says, Remus, soft as the wildflowers that grow in their backyard, and he pulls back to cast eyes over his face. Sirius tucks his hand to the back of Remus's head, threading fingers into his hair, and holds them there, silent in wonder and in grief and in hope.

We'll have to baby-proof the house, Remus whispers some moments later, watching as Sirius's grin starts in the crinkle of his nose and continues up to his eyes. He kisses him then, so in love. In between one and the next, against one another's lips, they manage to say:

All your odd specimens and heavy tomes up on high shelves, Professor.

And all your sharp, pointy things safely locked away, Pads.

We'll find some way to manage.

Yes, I think so.

**Author's Note:**

> im on tumblr @foxmulldr !!


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